Never Liked That One
by KLMeri
Summary: As the title says. K/S/M.


**Title**: Never Liked That One  
**Author**: klmeri  
**Fandom**: Star Trek TOS  
**Pairing**: Kirk/Spock/McCoy, Spock/McCoy  
**Summary**: As the title says.

* * *

"We've never been friends," Leonard tells the person sitting across from him.

The man seems confused. "I'm sorry? I think I misheard you."

"Nope," declares the interviewee amiably, "you didn't. We've _never_ been friends."

"But then how...?" A pointed look is given to Leonard's left hand.

Leonard raises it slightly, and the overhead lighting of the studio catches the metal of a band there. "This?" he questions, the lines at the corners of his mouth deepening with amusement. "Well now. You might think you have a point—but you don't."

Dr. Leonard McCoy sighs, still amused, and locks his hands around one knee of his crossed legs. "I guess I'm gonna have to tell you a story."

* * *

Once upon a time, _he begins_, I wasn't always so gray-headed. I looked decent enough. Kinda worn about the mouth, I guess, and a little plain everywhere else except for my eyes—which I have been told is my most striking feature. So, in general, I wasn't your best-looking man, not in the way that our Jim was, but good enough to catch someone's eye every so often.

I married young. Too young. I can freely admit that now that it's been decades and I have enough life experience to know better. If the missus and I had been a little less stubborn, it might have worked out. But that's not the point. After my divorce, the 'Fleet offered me a deep-space assignment and I jumped at the chance, needing a fresh start. Some years later, after my commission had been transferred to the Enterprise, I met my second wife, Natira. That was... well, that was complicated. I wouldn't say we didn't think fondly of each other. We just didn't know enough about each other, never mind the fact that we had separate paths to pursue. But if I had—well , let's just say I was ill at the time and if I hadn't found a reason to think I might recovery, I would have gladly accepted what comfort she offered me. She's doing well now, from what I heard. She remarried a man much more worthy of her than me.

So I guess I made a few questionable choices along the way when it comes to love. Once I finally recognized that I had, I all but gave up on finding someone. Let me tell you, loneliness is a terrible disease but feeling hopeless is worse. For a while the place I was in was... not a good one. I retired from Starfleet.

And Jim Kirk had the gall to bring me back.

You know, I've been mad at him plenty over the years but that was one of only times I remember cussing him out. That's no lie, I surely did! After the old crew banded back together and we had that mess fixed with V'Ger, I cut into him something fierce—and for once he didn't argue back. He took a hold of my shoulders and said, "Bones, I made a mistake. I shouldn't have left."

That was what my heart had wanted to hear. Earlier on, he had said that he needed me, which maybe was fine for him, but I wanted an apology. While he hadn't literally turned any of us out on our ear, per se, it felt like we had been abandoned. I know, I know... That's the nature of ladder-climbing in Starfleet. But when you meet people who you feel as close to as family, who maybe _are_the only family you have, you don't let 'em go easily.

I think Jim had realized that. He wanted his ship back, but he knew it was no good without the rest of us. We made the Enterprise what it was—which was a home.

I forgave him, of course. It's darned difficult to say mad at somebody like Jim. He just crowds into your space until you let him back in. He'd be the most bullheaded man I've ever met.

Wait. Let me rephrase that.

Jim Kirk was the most bullheaded _human_ I ever met. Vulcans are worse.

I was mad at Spock too around that time. When Jim skipped off to the Admiralty, Spock took a long hiatus to Vulcan where, of all fool things, he tried to turn himself into a pure Vulcan. Admittedly I fussed at him about that. He's not full-blooded, for Christ's sake! How in blazes is it logical to pretend his human half doesn't exist?

...If you can't tell, the two of us have argued over that matter as long as we have known each other. Nowadays, 'course, he's more settled about himself, and anything I say is likely to be more of an endearment than an insult but—you get my point.

Why'd you let me get so off-subject? It's about my bond with him I'm supposed to talk about, aren't I? Thank the sweet lord Spock didn't come with me this morning. The way my mind meanders these days worries him, bless his green-blooded heart. But I'm just gettin' old. Ain't nothing either of us can do about that.

Where was I?

Oh, yes, Spock.

That fuddy old Vulcan—I love him. There was a time when I didn't think I would ever say such a thing, let alone out loud. Funny how we can fool ourselves.

I never fooled Jim though. I don't think either Spock or I did.

Speaking of Jim, you know he once said that men like us don't have family. Jim, Spock, and I were on a vacation of sorts at the time. I remember Jim looking peculiar as he said it, like he knew he had just told a fib. I also remember thinking to myself, _If these men aren't my family, then what are they?_ They were special to me. They had to be something. Why else would I have agreed to that hike in the first place? Let me tell you, watching Jim Kirk do something reckless like fall off a mountain was not my idea of a pastime! One would think the man would have slowed down in his middle age, but he was as adventure-minded as he had been years before running around an unexplored planet with only a phaser, a communicator and a ruined shirt.

I guess you could say I loved him too. Most people who met him did. It was hard not to love to Jim. He was just that kind of man.

...But here I am, getting off our subject again. It's not my fault really. There are a lot of good things to remember. It tore me up when Jim died, almost as much as tore up Spock, but we've had time to deal with that, and time to grieve. I know I think a lot about the days we spent together, the three of us, because... well, because I feel my age now. Someday, I think, I'll get to see Jim again, and then I'll tell him how I missed him. I'll tell him that I loved him and my biggest mistake was not letting him know that.

Maybe he did know. The one time I said something to Spock about it he reminded me that Jim had always been more observant than he pretended to be.

That's why we're together now. Losing Jim made us realize that dancing around each other wasn't any way to live. There's only a certain amount of time you're given in this universe, so why spend it unhappy? Sure, there are times that we drive each other crazy. Not every moment is a good one. But we're both mindful now that we can't let misunderstandings or stubborn opinions get the better of us, especially because Jim isn't around to talk us back onto good terms.

It sounds like I've been telling a lie, doesn't it, that I was never friends with Spock?

Still, it's true in a way. We always got along best when someone else was with us. Mostly that person was Jim. He held us together like glue. I don't think Spock or I would have ever offered up the time of day for a conversation if we didn't recognize that by being Jim's friend there was no escape from each other. I have never hated Spock by any means, but sometimes I envied him and especially once we had established how tremendous our differences were, it was difficult to look past them.

But in the end, you know, the hobgoblin and I are not so different. We both gave our devotion to the same man for years. We have both been heartbroken, and we've both been lonely. And yet together we had the time of our lives too.

Do you think that when Jim left us that final time that he had any regrets? I ask myself that a lot. I think if he did regret anything, the one regret he didn't feel was knowing that Spock and I would have to console each other over his death. Maybe that was the point in keeping us with him all those years: to wear down our defenses so that when the time came we would have no choice but to need each other. Jim was a sneaky man like that—always knew the way of people's hearts.

...You know, I think I get it now, that look in Jim's eyes by the campfire. He wasn't lying after all. He was just stating a fact that he intended to change. Come hell or high water, he was going to have a family.

_The old man laughs, then, wiping surreptitiously at an eye before the story concludes._

I just thank god Spock and I were included in Jim's plans. Every day.

I'm so thankful!

_-Fini_


End file.
